


Thalmor Tenderloin

by Morninglight (orphan_account)



Series: Ysraneth's Tale [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Cannibalism, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Morninglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odahviing meets the Dragonborn and gets to try her famous Thalmor Tenderloin on the eve of the journey to Sovngarde. Lydia figures a little nibble won't kill her either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thalmor Tenderloin

“Hungry?”

            Odahviing peered down at the Dovahkiin, wondering why she wasn’t hurrying to hunt down Alduin and finish him off. Three days he had been here, two of them unbound, and each day she’d come here for a few hours to just… speak to him. It was disconcerting but after tasting the cruel blades and arrows of her joorre, the red dragon was willing to indulge her.

            “Iiz-Raan-Aaz,” he greeted genially, wondering why she had dragged along a few dead Kriisfahliil.

            “Thalmor patrol was harassing a group of worshippers at a shrine of Talos,” she explained, following his gaze. “I figured since I’m going to Sovngarde, I’ll eat like a champ before I leave.”

            _Ice-Beast-Mercy,_ he reflected on the draconic name Paarthunax had thundered out in the wake of his battle with Alduin, the World-Eater fleeing to Sovngarde like a coward. She had been merciful to the white dragon at the behest of his joorre and appeared to only fight dovahhe when they were stupid enough to even cross the land she claimed as her own. But when she hunted the dragons, she was utterly without mercy, and turned their remains into weapons and armour for her joorre.

            “You offer me one then?” He hadn’t expected her to feed him.

            “Well, yes. Hell, have a couple.” She sighed and looked up at the Throat of the World. “I’d cook ‘em properly, but Balgruuf tells me every hour I delay, more souls get eaten by Alduin. One of them might be my mother… _monahi_.”

            Odahviing didn’t understand why that was important, but he appreciated the gesture. _“Nox hi,”_ he responded, and began to devour one of the dead golden elves.

            It was delicious with a sweet pungent flavour he tried to identify. “What is this slick coating on them?” he asked.

            “Wild honey and garlic,” the Dragonborn answered as she called fire to her hand to cook one of the slices she’d carved from the buttock of a dead elf. “Best way to have ‘em.”

            “I did not realise joorre devoured each other,” he observed softly.

            “Well, it tends to happen if you’re a Bosmer who follows the Green Pact and Meat Mandate,” she explained. “My mother was a Nord, but my father was Bosmer, so I follow a version of them I am comfortable with.”

            She went on to explain what the Green Pact and Meat Mandate were, carefully cooking her meal, and Odahviing was impressed. One should never waste a dead enemy. And now he understood all the dragonbone and dragonscale things the joorre who’d trapped him wore.

            “It is delicious,” he said at the end. “I find myself hoping we can have many meals like this again, Iiz-Raan-Aaz.”

            “Me too,” she agreed. “The in-laws and the folk of Whiterun accept that I’m like this, but they’re still a bit… touchy. Can’t fault ‘em; they weren’t raised in the Green Pact. And my Da’s people don’t go hunting people for dinner most of the time. We prefer to keep to ourselves. But these bastards enslaved my Da’s people, so they have to fight.”

            Then she told a story about a foolish Kriisfahliil who found himself in a Feyfahliil tribe’s cooking pot. Odahviing rumbled a laugh when she described one of their leaders getting Shouted off the Throat of the World by a Nord Tongue. The world would be a better place without these Kriisfahlil… Well, at least enough of them eaten to manage their numbers.

            When her meat was ready, she cut it into pieces on a wooden plate and ate it delicately, savouring every bite. She was nearly on the last bit when the double doors leading into the hofkahsejun opened, two people – the Jun of this place and the one called Lydia – emerged.

            “Hey,” Iiz-Raan-Aaz greeted, her mouth full. “Want some?”

            The Jun shook his head, looking regretful. “I know you mean well, Ysraneth, and I wish I could honour you in such a way but…”

            The Dragonborn shrugged, swallowing her mouthful. “It’s alright, Balgruuf. There’s some wild honey and garlic marinated pheasant on the table for you and Lydia.”

            “You’re a good woman, Ysraneth,” the Jun responded with a smile. “And generous with it.”

            Ysraneth (as the joorre called her) shrugged again, selecting another slice. Odahviing was onto his second elf now; the flight to Skuldafn would be a long hard one. “You’re family,” she said quietly. “I don’t leave family hungry or helpless.”

            Lydia sat down by Ysraneth’s side, leaning her head on the Dragonborn’s shoulder. As Odahviing understood it, they were… mated. “I probably won’t be let into Sovngarde for this, but… I’ll have a bite,” she murmured. “You’ve been so accommodating of my beliefs, love, I should at least try to honour yours.”

            Ysraneth’s smile was radiant… Then she frowned. “Shit, these elves aren’t the best quality-“

            Balgruuf choked on his pheasant and Ysraneth glared at him. “Hey, would you feed Irileth cut-rate kwama?” she asked him.

            The Jun gave her a startled glance. “You know about us?”

            “I think the rats in Riften know about you two,” she grinned.

            “Hmmph.” Irileth, the Dunmer, emerged from the shadows. “I will need to find the leak in our security and eliminate it.”

            “I can eat it for you?” Odahviing offered helpfully. He knew that Alduin was most likely doomed and he wanted to be on the good side of the Dragonborn’s joorre.

            “Hmmph.” Irileth sounded pleased.

            Meanwhile,Ysraneth had cooked her second slice and cut off a tiny bit for Lydia. “Careful, it’s hot,” she warned, gazing at her lovingly.

            Lydia tentatively nibbled at the slice of dead elf, licking her lips. “That is far tastier than it should be,” she admitted. “Aaaand I will go to Oblivion for this, no doubt.”

            “If that happens, I’ll join you and we can kick Daedric arse,” Ysraneth promised, leaning her head against Lydia’s.

            “I pray you both come back,” Balgruuf said softly. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you, Ysraneth.”

            “I’ll come back,” she promised. “I need to conquer Falkreath. Siddgeir’s an idiot and Dengeir’s senile.”

            Balgruuf nearly choked on his pheasant again as Odahviing blinked slowly. Wasn’t Falkreath a small joor town?

            “So… if you become Jarl… would that make you the Cannib-Jarl?” Irileth asked, expression deadpan.

            “Irileth, that pun was so bad Sheogorath facepalmed,” Ysraneth retorted dryly.

            “One does one’s best.” The Dunmer’s stoic face cracked in a brief grin. “Do come back. Ulfric and Tullius won’t behave forever.”

            “I will, trust me.” She grinned at the two. “Maybe I’ll conquer Skyrim so Balgruuf can be High King.”

            “I would sooner walk naked through Morrowind during the Red Year,” the Jun said fervently.

            “Perhaps I am confused, Iiz-Raan-Aaz, but why do you not conquer Keizaal for yourself?” Odahviing asked, a bit confused.

            “Me… rule… Skyrim.” At her incredulous statement, everyone burst out laughing, including herself. “Ruling people means more than just conquering them, Odahviing. I’ve played politics now and then, but for the most part, I want to settle down to a quiet part of Skyrim and raise a bunch of kids. Oh, and marry Lydia of course.”

            “Why?”

            “Honestly? I’m not Talos fucking Reborn. The man was a jackhole. If I’m meant to be the last Dragonborn, there needs to be a good reason for that. I suspect I’ll be killing a lot more Altmer until the Thalmor are dead… but after Alduin, I’ll be glad to return to my life.” She smiled warmly at the people gathered on the porch. “I just have a lot more people in it this time.”

            She’d lost interest in her meal, so Odahviing devoured the rest of the elves. No point wasting such delicious meat. “Lydia…”

            “I’m coming.” The dark-haired woman’s voice was firm.

            “Good. I’ll bring Uthgerd too. She might be useful dragon-fodder.”

            “Ysraneth, you’re horrible!” Balgruuf laughed.

            “What? More honour than that wench will ever have in her life.”

            Irileth was laughing and shaking her head. “You’re good for a laugh, if nothing else. I am honoured to call you friend.”

            “Me too, Irileth. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you have a heart.”

            “Good. I have a reputation to maintain.” The Dunmer walked over and placed a hand on Balgruuf’s shoulder. “You should rest. The Holdthing is tomorrow.”

            “Thanks for reminding me,” Balgruuf sighed, then looked over at Ysraneth. “When do you go?”

            The Dragonborn looked up at the sky. “Tomorrow at dawn.”

            The Jun nodded. “I will fare you well then, kinswoman. You will return, both of you. Hilda will be offended if she doesn’t get to arrange the wedding feast.”

            Ysraneth grinned. “I’ll bring back some Altmer for the main course.”

            “Heh, bring back a piece of Alduin!” Balgruuf countered with a grin. “Dragonsreach needs a new ornament.”

            “How many times do I have to tell you that skull is bloody wasteful?” Ysraneth retorted, smiling. “Stick a lantern in it or something. But make it bloody useful!”

            “Yes, kinswoman.” The Jun rose to his feet and held out his arms. Much to Odahviing’s surprise, both the Dragonborn and her mate embraced him, Irileth joining in. It was brief but heartfelt.

            “Come back,” the Jun told them. “Skyrim will be a poorer place without you.”

            Ysraneth nodded, eyes glittering with water. “We will. Going to take more than Alduin to keep us from holding the wedding of the year.”

            “Good. I have statements to make to those fools in Solitude and Windhelm.” The Jun and his Dunmer left the Great Porch, Lydia and Ysraneth staring at each other as Odahviing looked away, feeling suddenly awkward.

            “I love you,” the Dragonborn told her mate fervently. “Loved you the first time you walked into the room.”

            Lydia smiled cheekily. “Wasn’t quite the same for me. I had to wait until the first kiss.”

            “Which was about five minutes after we were alone.”

            “…True.” They embraced, kissing each other deeply, before parting with a sigh. “Let’s get some sleep,” Lydia suggested. “Long day tomorrow.”

            “Don’t I know it.” Ysraneth looked up at Odahviing. “Sleep well, big guy.”

            “You too, Iiz-Raan-Aaz.” Odahviing paused and added, “I hope you defeat Alduin. I… like this world.”

            “See? I told you my Thalmor Tenderloin could bring anyone around,” Ysraneth told Lydia with a grin before giving Odahviing’s horns a quick scratch. “Sorry ‘bout the trap thing.”

            Odahviing shrugged. He’d been trapped through his own arrogance. Not that he’d admit it aloud.

            Ysraneth laughed and led her mate inside. It would be too soon until dawn and her date with destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Balm for the incredibly dark one-shot I wrote for the Tales of the Aurelii. Thank you again, Thu’um Translator. Trigger warning: cannibalism.


End file.
